Itabby's Adventure
by JediMasterDarjaak
Summary: A sneaky trick by Russia threatens to pit England against France once again. Only Sealand and Itabby can save the day!


Author's Note: I do not own in any way, shape, or form, ANY shape or form of Hetalia

This is all in line with my Hetalia fics. Namely, Sealand's been declared a nation, England has reconciled with him, Latvia's dating Seychelles, and Sealand's dating Liechtenstein

**Itabby's Adventure**

England and France were, strangely, getting along with one another one fine sunny day. Both nations were playing tennis at an impressive speed, watched by Sealand and Itabby. The young nation stroked Itabby, making the cat purr happily. He frowned slightly; surely it wasn't normal for cats to make a 'Ve' sound whilst purring? The cat seemed slightly odd too. He couldn't say what made him feel this way, but something about the cat felt weird to him. He stopped stroked the cat, prompting him to look around.

"Ve, why did you stop? I was enjoying that, very much!"

Unseen by either of them, Russia was sidling along the fence, his perpetual smile on his face. Sealand gaped at the cat in surprise.

"You... YOU CAN TALK?!"

Itabby gave a vacant smile.

"Ve, of course I can! I'm Itabby! Italy's cat."

Sealand scratched his head as Russia made a dash for the nearer of the two homes.

"Do all nations have a talking cat?"

Itabby purred and rubbed up against Sealand.

"Ve, most of us do. Maybe there's one out there for you too!"

"Well, I do have a cat, but..."

"WATCH WHAT YOU'RE AIMING FOR, WINE BASTARD!"

England swung his racket with all his might, sending the tennis ball flying at France with the speed of a rocket. Incredibly, France not only spun on the spot in a way that looked both elegant and cool, he returned the tennis ball to England at a similar speed.

"You're too old to compete with the gorgeous France anymore. Just give up now and we'll call it a draw!"

"The hell I will!"

The banter and the tennis ball flew back and forth with no sign of relenting for over an hour. Itabby stretched out in the sun and settled down for a nap. Finally, both nations gave up and trudged inside to clean up. Sealand was just about to ask Itabby more questions when a yell sounded from England's house.

"MY TROPHY'S GONE!"

A similar yell came from France's, although France was far more dramatic than the former pirate.

"That tasteless old pirate has stolen my trophy! I will see him suffer for this!"

Before Sealand or Itabby could make a move to placate either of them, both the former rivals had emerged from their homes and launched into a brawl with intent to kill the other, heedless of any wounds they took in the process. Sealand struggled to part them, Itabby watching with a look of blissful ignorance.

"Stop, stop, both of you! Tell me what happened, I can help maybe!"

Eventually Sealand managed to wrestle the two nations apart. Itabby was lying on his back, batting his paws at a butterfly, seemingly unaware that England and France were once again at loggerheads. Sealand took several deep breaths before turning to France.

"What happened exactly?"

Inside, the young nation felt slightly nervous. He'd seen in several movies that mediating differences was often solved with flashy heroic actions and exceptionally dumb antagonists who left clues out where even Italy could pick up on them. As France detailed what had happened, Belarus walked past, heading to one of the other houses further away.

"That trophy was given to me for hosting the 1900 Olympic games! And that English bastard has stolen it!"

"You French tosser, I'll kick your ass for another hundred years!"

Both nations brawled again, prompting a sweatdrop from Sealand. After several minutes, the youngster lost his temper and yelled at them both.

"CUT THAT OUT RIGHT NOW OR I'LL SIGN YOU BOTH OVER TO RUSSIA!"

Immediately, both nations froze. Getting up, they grumpily separated and sat down on a nearby bench. Sealand breathed a sigh of relief as Itabby got up from his nap.

"Right, now tell me what was taken, big brother."

"My trophy from when I hosted the Olympics last year. France must have done it!"

"Never, you stole mine!"

Itabby walked up and sat next to Sealand.

"Ve, let me and Sealand go find them. It can be our adventure!"

Sealand looked at the talking tabby cat in surprise.

"You and me go find the missing things?"

"Ve, why not? It'll be fun!"

England and France glared daggers at one another but finally relented. Shaking his head, France turned to Sealand.

"Alright, we'll wait until you get back with our trophies."

Sealand saluted to them both and turned to run to the other houses nearby, Itabby hot on his heels.

All but one of the houses looked abandoned, which made Sealand and Itabby's search much easier. The one occupied house was occupied by none other than Russia. Sat on a lawn chair, the innocent-looking yet terrifying superpower was drinking himself silly with copious amounts of vodka. Being such a huge country, he could down gallons of the stuff before getting inebriated. Sealand and Itabby crept into his house through the open back door, which Russia fortunately had his back to, and nearly walked right into Belarus. The somewhat deranged nation glared at them, a steak knife in her hand before Sealand could so much as blink. Itabby crept upstairs, unseen. Belarus spoke in a menacing voice.

"You're just a kid, so I'll say it nice and simple. Get out. Don't come back. Ever. Again. If you leave now then you won't get slashed."

Sealand threw his hands into the air.

"Wait, I've come here to..."

He wracked his brains for something to distract the Belarusian. She glared at him, her blue eyes seeming to smoulder like lava.

"Come here to what? Speak quickly boy!"

He furtively glanced around the room, his gaze soon settling on an important looking document on a nearby table from Belarus herself. A brilliant idea came to Sealand, hoping to get Russia back for all the times he'd sent insistent 'requests' to become one with him.

"I came here to help you!"

Belarus's fierce gaze wavered.

"Help me?"

Upstairs, Itabby had found the two stolen trophies, and picked them up. Pushing them in a pillowcase, the airheaded cat sneaked downstairs, smiling obliviously, and exited the building, dragging the recovered trophies along. Sealand pointed to the document, hoping against hope that Belarus was a nation of habit.

"I can get your brother to sign that for you!"

Belarus frowned.

"You can get my brother to sign my proposal? How?"

Sealand gave a cheeky wink, silently praying he was indeed made of metal.

"Wait and see!"

Belarus continued to frown at the young nation, but in the end relented, sheathed her knife and passed the form to him.

"Go on then, make him sign my marriage proposal and I won't tell him you were here."

Sealand took the form, grinned nervously at Belarus, grabbed a pen, and ran to where Russia was sat in his deck chair. There was no sign of Itabby, so hopefully the cat had made it back to where England and France had been playing tennis. He waved the paper, catching Russia's attention.

"Ah, Sealand, what is it?"

Russia seemed pleasant enough, but the seemingly gentle nation could change to pure evil in a heartbeat. Sealand walked up to him, taking out his pen.

"I want to join the Russians, and I need your signature to make it official."

Just by looking at the superpower, Sealand could tell he was pleasantly intoxicated and would remember little, if any, of this encounter. Russia smiled, and ruffled Sealand's hair through his cap, sending an icy cold shiver down the young nation's spine. Sealand pointed to the dotted line, and folded the piece of paper over so that Russia would not see he was being tricked. Taking the pen, Russia signed with a flourish and sat back in his chair, taking another bottle of vodka as he did so.

"Soon, they'll all realise that to become one with..."

The tipsy superpower fell asleep, dropping his bottle as he did so. Shivering, Sealand ran back to Belarus with a triumphant smile.

"It worked, he signed it!"

Belarus snatched the form and read it, eyes widening in amazement. She nodded curtly to the young nation.

"Alright, you can go now. You did well to make my brother sign this. Th...thank you."

Sealand ran back the way he'd come, and found that Itabby had delivered the trophies back to England and France. Neither had relented enough to apologise to the other, but the simple fact they weren't trying to kill one another was impressive in and of itself. Both came to shake Sealand's hand, and thanked the young nation for his help. Itabby leapt up onto Sealand's shoulder and nuzzled him affectionately.

"Ve, you make a good hero, Sealand!"

Sealand petted Itabby with a broad smile.

"This time, WE are the champions!"


End file.
